Mariah Stewart - Last Look

“So she wasn’t just tossed out of the car. Someone took the time to lay her carefully on the ground.”

“Right. Which means this is probably no random killing.” Andrew nodded. “Her clothes were carefully arranged, even the short skirt she was wearing was pulled down as far as it would go.”

“No sexual assault?” Another slap, this one on her left hand.

“No. Not that the ME could tell, anyway. Remember, she was a working girl. There were signs of recent sexual activity, but according to her roommate, she’d been working that night.”

“So there’s no way of knowing if she’d had sex with her killer. If he was one of her johns…”

“Right now, we know nothing,” Andrew agreed.

Dorsey knelt again to inspect the grasses. “She wasn’t killed here. There would have been blood.”

“Right. There was no indication she was killed here.”

“So, where do we start?” Dorsey shoved her hands into the pockets of her linen pants, which had looked so crisp when she’d put them on earlier that morning but were now full of wrinkles. She should have worn jeans. “Why aren’t you swatting?”

“They’re not bothering me.”

“That’s really annoying.”

“Sorry. And it’s not where do we start. It’s where am I on the investigation, which is already underway.”

“Right.” She bristled but nodded her understanding.

“I’ve spoken with the roommate briefly, but I got very little out of her. I did take a few notes, which I’ll let you read, along with the statement she gave the police, but we’re going to need to meet with her in person.” He paused as if something had just occurred to him. “Maybe you’ll have more luck with her. She doesn’t seem to have a very high regard for men.”

“Most prostitutes don’t. But I’d be happy to talk to her, if you think it will help.”

“And I’ll want to talk to the family, back in South Carolina. I haven’t been in touch with them yet, though I understand the state police have been. Once the locals realized what they had, they couldn’t get rid of it fast enough.”

“So I’ve heard.” She turned slightly and looked out at the sea, where dark clouds were gathering and a storm was just beginning to move toward the shore. Even from the opposite side of the island, she could hear the waves pounding on the beach. The air was still, except for the hum of the mosquitoes that seemed to grow louder with every minute. She swatted at the air near her right ear and smacked her left arm.

“That’s it. I’ve had enough for one day. I say we head inland, away from these goddamn little flying vampires.”

“Good idea,” Andrew said, though the insects still appeared to ignore him. “First we’ll take a look at the body, then we’ll visit with Edith Chiong.”

“Who’s Edith Chiong?” Dorsey started toward the car.

“ Shannon ’s roommate.”

“Where’s the body now? She hasn’t been buried yet, right?”

He caught up with her at the car.

“No. They’ve only just identified her a few days ago. The body is still at the ME’s. My understanding is that it’s going to be transported to a funeral home in Hatton, South Carolina, within the next day or so, so I want to make that the priority. I’m hoping Shannon herself will be able to give us a clue as to what happened to her.”

“That sounds like a plan.” Dorsey opened the passenger door and hopped in as quickly as she could, hoping to leave most of the swarm on the other side of the glass. “Would you mind stopping back at the Crab Shack so I can pick up my car? I can follow you from there.”

“Sure.”

Andrew backed out of the parking spot and headed down the narrow road that led back to the bridge.

“A profiler I worked with told me that you can’t find the killer without knowing the victim,” Dorsey said. “That the victim will tell you what you need to know, if you pay attention.”

“Anne Marie McCall.” He nodded.

“Right. I worked a case with her last year. She’s great. Have you worked with her?”

“Yes.” He was suddenly intent upon studying the road.

“Oh, my God, I forgot…” She covered her mouth with her hand. “I shouldn’t have…I forgot…”

“Right. She was engaged to marry my cousin, Dylan.” Andrew’s gaze was fixed on the road ahead. “Who was murdered by my brother.”

“Andrew, I’m sorry,” she told him softly. “I wasn’t thinking.”

He made a left onto the bridge.

A moment later he said, “Good point, about knowing the victim to find the killer. That’s exactly what I intend to do. I’m interested in seeing just what Shannon has to tell us. Hopefully, she’ll give us something that in the end will lead us to her killer.”

“She’s been a real popular girl these last few days.” The middle-aged receptionist at the medical examiner’s office inspected the credentials Andrew offered, then barely glanced at Dorsey’s badge as she pushed her chair back from her desk and stood. “Course, rumor has it she was real popular when she was alive, too. And busy. Very, very busy.”

“Are you referring to the fact that it’s been alleged she was a prostitute?” Andrew slid his badge back into the inner pocket of his jacket, his face unreadable.

“Honey,” she drawled, “there is no alleging about it. She was what she was. This wasn’t the first time the cops found that girl out late at night, if you know what I mean.”

She took five steps and opened the door leading to the hall. Andrew opened his mouth as if to speak, but the receptionist didn’t seem to notice.

“Course, that don’t make it right, what happened to her. Don’t make it right at all.” She waved the agents on with her right hand. “Just saying, you keep putting yourself in harm’s way, sooner or later harm’s gonna catch up with you, that’s all.”

It was hard to argue with that logic. Hookers were high risk, there was no way around it.

“Doc Fuller’s in the back room. He told me to bring y’all on back when you got here.” She continued to chat as she led them down the hall, and stopped in front of a solid gray door. “Most activity we’ve seen around here in a while. Can’t remember the last time the FBI was here. Maybe not since that bus crash out on the old Hollow Tree Road back four years or so now. Illegal alien driving a car that hit a bus, you may have heard about that…”

She swung the door back and stepped aside so they could enter.

“Doc, the FBI agents you were waitin’ on are here. This here’s Agent Shields,” she pointed to Andrew, then turned to Dorsey. “And this is Agent Collins.”

Dorsey extended her hand to the dapper white-haired gentleman in the crisp lab coat. It was so clean that she suspected he’d just slipped it on. No way could he have performed autopsies in that spotless garment.

“Agent Collins, good to meet you.” He shook her hand firmly, then turned to Andrew. “Agent Shields. We spoke on the phone, I believe.”

“Yes, sir. We appreciate you making time to see us. We know your time is valuable, and-”

“Not at all.” The ME waved his hand dismissively. “I don’t have a damned thing better to do. No autopsies scheduled today, and if the good folks of our fine county are lucky, I’ll have none again tomorrow. Come on over here. Have a seat and we’ll talk.”

He beckoned the agents to follow him to the far side of the room, where several chairs stood around a wooden table. In the center of the table, a Mason jar held a handful of blue flowers.

“Maise’s idea of decor.” He nodded in the direction of the door the receptionist had left open. He walked to it and gave it a shove, to close it. “That oughta keep her guessing for a while.”